


In Another Life, When We Are Both Cats

by PhenixFleur



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Kitties~, F/F, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Reincarnation, because there's always cat drama, bittersweet fluff, cat drama, cat!bill, heavily implied Mabifica, more platonic Billdip with references to a romantic relationship, older kitten!Dipper, references to soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-23 06:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4865999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhenixFleur/pseuds/PhenixFleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes you walk on four legs, sometimes you walk on two. Sometimes you live for a single day, and sometimes an entire lifespan. But no matter where, or when, I'll find you, and we'll be together again." </p><p>A series of fluffy AU drabbles with Dipper and Bill as Mabel's cats, living out one life together before the next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cat Drama

**Author's Note:**

> Initially inspired by this prompt from otpprompts on Tumblr: "Imagine your OTP as kitties grooming each other, then cuddling as they take a nap."
> 
> And then it got out of hand. :3

It took awhile for the newcomer to grow on him, but after a couple of weeks of antagonism and what their human referred to as ‘cat drama’ Dipper and the one-eyed stray that just invaded his territory without warning or apology came to something of a truce.

Prior to that his interactions with Bill mostly involved him staying the hell away from the other cat, because Bill was really creepy, and there were times when Dipper caught him leering at him from across the room or atop the expensive - looking cat tree (something the blonde girl that visited their human on a regular basis had brought by on one occasion), with that single yellow eye fixed on him in such a knowing manner that Dipper briefly wondered whether he was really a cat at all.

Part of what annoyed him about the stray’s presence was that it meant the time spent with his human was now divided between the two of them. This was unacceptable. He knew it was possessive and probably selfish given that he’d been a stray himself before the girl with the mop of bushy brown hair rescued him from the box haphazardly left on the sidewalk. He could still recall the expression of joy on her face as she got a good look at the pattern of spots on his side and christened him ‘Dipper’ on the spot before taking him home to a wonderful world of bright balls of yarn, lots of kitten-sized pockets of space to explore (that he quickly outgrew) and a warm side to cuddle against. 

Some cats were content enough on their own, and he was one of them. The days spent nosing around the large, somewhat shabby wooden house they lived in or poking around in the thick grass on the lawn or watching her paint or sketch images that seemed vaguely familiar were the best. She wouldn’t let him venture beyond the treeline of the surrounding woods, which was a shame because Dipper just knew they were crawling with interesting creatures and scents and  _things_  and sometimes the suspense was almost too much. But it was bearable in the face of everything else.

Then the stray with pitch-colored fur save for the weird golden patch on his forehead showed up on the porch after a heavy spring shower and ruined everything. Maybe not  _ruined_ , but things definitely changed.

Unlike Dipper, who now knew that his name had something to do with the brilliant points of light that peppered the night sky, his human’s choice for the new cat seemed pretty arbitrary.

“You look like a…” She’d paused, staring into his single yellow eye for a brief moment before announcing, rather triumphantly, “Bill! You’re definitely a Bill.”

Dipper liked his name better.

Bill was annoyingly affectionate with their human, constantly purring and curling around her legs, and she responded readily to it. Dipper didn’t like being picked up and carried around, and he suspected the only reason Bill consented to it was to see the fur rising along his spine in frustration. The black cat made a point of attempting to approach him, but Dipper resented his presence so much that he greeted every attempt with a hiss. He knew better than to engage Bill in a fight because the other cat was a bit older and for all his sleek fur and slender form he obviously possessed some kind of skill. This was confirmed when Dipper happened to witness him taking down an unlucky rat on the lawn outside, turning to stare at the younger cat with the head in his mouth and mirth in his eye. Because he was slightly older and allowed outside at night (Dipper had yet to figure it out) Bill occasionally slipped into the woods, melting into the shadows cast by the evergreens and not returning until the first rays of dawn tinted the sky. What did he do out there? What did he get to see? Dipper envied his freedom, but not enough to try to accompany him.

Although he was certain that the other cat wouldn’t mind. For all his oddities it seemed as if Bill didn’t really hold any illwill towards him.

It occurred to Dipper that maybe he was being unreasonable. Bill was annoying, and he was definitely creepy, but that didn’t  _necessarily_  make him a bad guy.

Finally, one rainy afternoon when their human was away, he decided to let his guard down, even if only slightly. 

He sat curled up on the well-worn chair in the living room, trying to ignore how lonely he felt when she wasn’t around. Even with his own sharp senses, he never managed to hear Bill approaching, and this time was no different - he didn’t realize he was nearby until the black cat leapt up beside him, startling Dipper so badly that he nearly panicked and ran behind the couch. Instead, he held his ground, staring the other cat in the eye with all the bravery he could muster and the tip of his tail flickering in preparation to fight if need be.

It rather quickly became apparent that Bill wasn’t interested in fighting. The black cat simply grinned at him, catching Dipper completely offguard when he leaned forward and nuzzled him beneath the chin. The smaller cat resisted the urge to flinch away from the physical contact, allowing Bill to wrap himself around him, still wearing the same toothy grin, and drape his tail over Dipper’s back. Slowly his tense posture began to soften, and eventually Dipper gave in and curled up next to the black cat, allowing him to run his tongue over the spot between his ears and purring in unison.

When their human returned later that day she was surprised to find both cats fast asleep, cuddling in a warm heap of silky black and soft brown fur.


	2. Friendship

Dipper hadn’t realized that he needed a friend; not until he finally let his guard down for good and let the new cat in. Their human was a friend, his oldest and dearest, but there existed a barrier between her and the two of them, both from a practical standpoint and one of communication. He knew she loved them with all her heart, but that heart still retained room for others (certainly the blonde girl that spent a good bit of time with her) whereas she was all Dipper had ever known. So once he stopped being resentful over having his territory invaded and allowed Bill to befriend him it the difference in relationships became even more pronounced. Bill was his friend - and he’d gone too long without one. 

It gave him someone to play with, to help pass the time when their human was away, to curl up next to when he felt lonely or anxious or simply needed to be near someone. They spent their days roaming the house and poking their noses where they didn’t belong, pushing books off shelves and inspecting the pages with feline fascination (the markings didn’t mean anything to Dipper, but he could tell they held some form of meaning for Bill). Being slightly older and more well-versed in the art of stealth, Bill taught him how to sneak into places that were off-limits, sometimes resulting in the two of them having to hide after accidentally breaking things that would make their human cross upon discovery, and although Dipper sometimes failed to escape her irritation after such an incident Bill always managed to make himself scarce somehow. 

Despite his occasional betrayal, the other cat appeared to be quite fond of him, always choosing to sleep at his side and blithely allowing Dipper to feign dominance by eating first when they both knew good and well that should it come to it the battle would be no contest in Bill’s favor. He was a constant companion, and, when faced with alien devices, unrecognizable humans, or anything that posed a threat the black cat served as a devoted protector, ready to claw violently at the roaring beast that chewed at the carpet or hiss at the spout that produced water at an unnerving velocity (which neither of them cared for). 

As if sensing that his defensive abilities were considerably lacking, the older cat also became an instructor in that regard. Whenever they sparred their human found the sight endearing and made a variety of sounds that indicated appreciation, but for Dipper and Bill their spats were training sessions. The black cat was a seasoned fighter, and he tended to get the best of Dipper, who was glad that their fights weren’t serious brawls. Bill never  _actually_ hurt him, but being nipped or coming into contact with his claws was uncomfortable; on occasion his attempts at instruction sent Dipper into hiding behind the sofa and sullenly refusing to come out for awhile. Thankfully these incidents were rare, and the first time he managed to dispatch a large black insect foolish enough to scuttle beneath the door he triumphantly brought his kill to the black cat, who rewarded him with somehow accessing the treat bin in the kitchen and bringing him  _three_ of them.  _Three._ Best day ever. 

Bill was big on presents. 

Dipper had yet to figure out how he got outside on his own, and that was the one instance in which Bill refused to assist him, but he always made sure to bring both Dipper and their human souvenirs from his travels. Their human clearly didn’t appreciate the carcasses, which was a shame, but for Dipper they were a welcome (and much appreciated) treat that only accentuated his desire to slip past the door and out into the world, if for but a minute. 

The  _best_ moments came just before sunrise, once they finished darting around the house or Bill returned from rambling around in the woods. They’d taken to sleeping on the sofa instead of the bed their human came home with one day, and the two of them had gradually developed a ritual. Dipper was first, clawing his way up the side of the sofa and circling for a bit before finding a comfortable position to curl up in. Bill then followed, coiling himself around the smaller cat, draping his tail over Dipper’s back, and grooming the spot between his ears that always made Dipper purr uncontrollably while he watched the first rays of a new day creep through the drawn blinds with his friend at his side.

Life was good. 


	3. Hero

As peaceful and satisfying as life had become since the acquisition of his first feline friend, it wasn’t without its moments of terror, and danger lurked around every corner at times. 

There was, for example, the monster that roared as it munched at the carpet, scavenging upon the debris the cats and their human left behind. The beast towered over Dipper, making the fur along his back rise in agitation at the very sight of it. Prior to his friendship with Bill his main method of defense had involved simply hiding under or behind the sofa when the monster awakened to feed once more. With Bill at his side he discovered new depths of bravery, now joining in with the older cat’s threats in the form of hissing and clawing at the creature whenever it came too close. Whether through fear or indifference it began to mind its own business, ceasing to approach them at all when active and disappearing altogether when it slept. 

The carpet monster was one source of anxiety, but at least it was consistent in its malicious intent. Some things were wretchedly deceptive, feigning innocence on moment and then leering at Dipper the next. Sometimes these two-faced beings came in the form of the books that Bill pored over when their human wasn’t looking, lying on the floor innocuously, but the kitten just  _knew_ that something was up, something that made him uneasy about the supposedly benign object before him. Sometimes there were crumply bags that, when folded in upon themselves, emitted a sound that sent Dipper running for Bill, darting beneath the black cat for protection. There were the soft strings their human played with that she didn’t like to share, ready to entangle him just as willingly as they were to provide entertainment. The world was full of things that presented one face while hiding another. 

That’s where Bill came bursting in, willing and ready to fight whatever posed a threat in the slightest, whatever unnerved Dipper regardless of what it was. He hissed at and clawed the covers of the books that dared show their other side, shredded the errant bags with those same claws, and batted the balls of string away from Dipper (generally to the dismay of their human - Dipper wondered whether she was actively putting herself in harms way for their sake.)

There were the things that scared them both; leaving the house to visit the white room where hands that weren’t their human’s poked and prodded (usually resulting in Dipper breaking free and cowering in the corner until their human came to gather him into her arms, stroking the fur along his ears and speaking in a comforting tone that never failed to calm him down.) These trips, which he’d been forced to undergo alone before Bill, were less terrifying knowing that the black cat was nearby, with teeth and fangs to retaliate should it be necessary, as well as offer comfort for the frightened kitten in the car later on, grooming that same spot behind his ears and along the crown of his head patiently until he stopped shivering. 

Then there were the times when it rained, accompanied by the great  _BOOM_  that rattled the windows; he spent those curled up next to Bill, listening to the deep rumble of the other cat’s purring until he drifted off to sleep until the storm passed. 

It was during one such incident that Dipper found himself purring in unison, hoping the two of them could be together for every sunset and sunrise, forever, so he’d never be scared and alone again.


	4. Always

Beyond the heavy door, much too thick for him to claw open, there lay the one avenue Dipper had yet to explore to his own sense of satisfaction - the lawn, but most specifically what lay past it: The Woods. 

He held a sort of reverence for the endless expanse of evergreens, hiding what could only be the most enticing secrets within their depths. Their human only let him go so far under her supervision, and all of his past attempts to escape had resulted in being plucked up off the grass and carted back into the house. And yet somehow - somehow Bill managed to slip out of the house at night, past the door as if he were nothing but a shadow with a single eye shining like a beacon in the darkness, bounding off into the woods not to return until the first rays of dawn. Whatever he did beneath the cloak of night remained his business alone...and it rendered Dipper so flustered with curiosity that he often imagined he'd burst eventually if that curiosity wasn't sated.

The sun rose and set many times after Bill's untimely arrival, and finally, one unorthodox day in which their human seemed more flighty and excitable than usual, he received his chance.

The girl with hair that reminded him of rays of rich golden sunlight had become a more permanent fixture in the house. She provided Bill and himself with a steady supply of exotic treats and fancy toys that didn't succumb to their teeth or claws immediately yet they kept her at a cool distance. She wasn't openly unfriendly, but to Dipper it felt as if their presence was merely tolerated instead of the adoring attention heaped on them by their own human.

However, he could most certainly tell that she meant the world to their human, whose eyes lit up whenever she was around, her entire being radiating joy. Dipper could respect that. He felt the same thing around Bill at times, to some extent; perhaps not the exact kind of happiness that took hold of their human, but something similar. So the blonde girl posed no threat, and the two cats treated her presence like it was no big deal.

That evening, sometime after the sun dipped below the horizon and the silver eye of the moon crept open, their human and her friend returned from wherever they'd been. Their arrival awakened Dipper, who'd dozed off at Bill's side only to find the other cat missing upon regaining consciousness. The front door crept open, yielding a mass of hair the hues of sunflowers and fresh pine bark; the two humans rushed past, giggling, and Dipper then heard the slamming of another door from somewhere within the house.

Their laughter confused the kitten. He'd never heard their human laugh quite like  _that_  before, and he wasn't sure what to think of it.

He stretched, nursing the sting of abandonment by both his human and Bill by attending to his forepaws for a minute before the realization dawned on him.

The door wasn't completely shut, leaving him a thin sliver of night sky and moonlight as proof. The door was  _open_.

Without any further hesitation he rose from where he sat on the sofa and leapt onto the floor, fluffy tail flagging behind him as he made his way across the room. A faint breeze flowed through the crack dividing the world within from the world without; it was just large enough to squeeze through.

With an anxious glance behind him, towards the sounds of his human and her friend enjoying each other’s' company, he pushed his way through the narrow opening, out onto the wooden porch and continuing into the soft, springy grass beneath his paws. The moment he touched down his senses were immediately overwhelmed by the sheer variety of scents and sounds and sensations, things scratching beneath the earth and within the nearby bushes, small feet scuttling along in the grass, the smell of pine and hide and the musk of creatures far larger than himself. So, so much. So much to see, so much to do.

His excitement boiled over, causing him to leap into the air a few times before tearing towards the treeline at top speed, into the wonderland he'd been dreaming of for so long.

And then Dipper was in the woods, continuing to run with fallen leaves crunching beneath his paws and his heart fluttering in his tiny chest.

* * *

After a long stretch of moving in a single direction, bounding over large twigs and sliding beneath overgrown vegetation, the kitten slowed to a trot, finally allowing himself to take stock of his surroundings.

So this was The Woods.

Ancient trees reached to the sky with their boughs of pine needles too far above his head to be seen. All around him were numerous signs of  _life_ , more so than he'd ever encountered during his supervised outings on the lawn. Some of these creatures were familiar: fat, meaty chipmunks that skittered along tree trunks during the day, ash-colored squirrels with bushy tails that shot up in warning at the approach of danger, delicious birds that now lay snug within their nests. The faint vibrations within the ground suggested moles (he'd only seen a mole once - in Bill's jaws), and the smooth crinkle of scales rustling through the fallen pine needles had to be snakes - hopefully the kind that fled instead of the kind that bit. 

However, many of the sounds (and their accompanying smells) were  _unfamiliar_ : what, exactly, was that rank odor, followed by the soft rattle of what appeared to be a bundle of pine needles rhythmically clinking against each other? The gentle  _hooo_  of an owl rang out from overhead - he knew what an owl was, and he could definitely identify the croaking of small frogs lurking within the damp places. 

But the chitter chatter of some creature fussing either to itself or another, the mournful  _yip_ , brief shrieks that rapidly faded into silence as life sustained itself through unpleasant yet necessary means...he didn't recognize any of it.

It occurred to him that he wished Bill was there with him to act as a guide - and protector. Somehow the thought that the woods might be  _dangerous_  had escaped him, and the realization rose the fur along his spine, all the way to the tip of his tail. 

And yet, this was a chance for  _adventure_ , and there was no point to wasting it on a threat that may or may not exist. Steeling himself against his brief bout of anxiety, Dipper set off again, latching on to a familiar scent and deciding to track it. If he was lucky, perhaps he could bring a present back for both their human  _and_  Bill. It required more concentration than usual: if scents were as telling as sounds (and to a cat they were) then the woods were the equivalent of a million voices calling out, all at once. Differentiating between them all was difficult for the inexperienced kitten, and several times he lost track of whatever he was hunting.

Half an hour later he paused again to catch his breath, stretching out in a pile of leaves and letting out a growl of frustration. His trail was now hopelessly lost within the crowd, and he was pretty sure he was lost, too. 

_Oh_. 

The tip of his tail flickered nervously as Dipper surveyed the darkened woods again. Perhaps he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere, because this part of the woods wasn't right. Something about it set his nerves on edge. The knotholes within the trees were just large enough to allow glowing eyes to peer out at him, and the jagged branches that had broken off from their parents contained sharp points that threatened to jab themselves into his fur, beneath the skin. 

That wasn't the only thing that now held his attention. 

There were other things. 

He caught the sour scent of something he couldn't identify at all. It smelled  _wrong_ , as if it didn't belong, an anachronism within a uniform landscape. It dragged itself along the ground, smashing the twigs Dipper had been forced to jump over beneath its feet with ease, and the huffing noises it made as it shuffled through the woods were unnatural. 

Shadows, perfect pitch black stains on the ground, wove in and out among the stand of pines with purpose; something shrieked in the night - and went on shrieking, the sound echoing within Dipper's head until he could no longer take it. 

He leapt to his paws and began to run once more, fully giving into the fear that had been needling at him for some time. The light of the moon now struck him as sinister, a sly moon that had crept high above while he wasn't paying attention, now highlighting him for all to see. He panted as he dashed headlong through the woods with who knew what on his tail, ready to tear him apart. So often he'd played the part of predator, and now he was the prey. 

The frightened kitten nearly missed slamming into a tree trunk in his state of mindless terror, gasping at the sight of a pair of burning yellow eyes that he could've sworn were lodged into the wood itself, trained on him; he skidded to a halt and changed direction. He was sure this wasn't the path that led home, but he needed to get away. If only Bill were here. 

He ran until his small legs could no longer hold him aloft, clawing his way over to a fallen log and curling up in the lee of the large chunk of wood. He wanted to go home. Their human had been right to keep him from crossing the treeline - there were things in the wood that his teeth and claws could not handle, regardless of whether he was fully grown or not. Dipper lowered his head into the grass, mewing disconsolately at the situation he'd managed to get himself in.

_How'd you get so far away from home, kid?_

Dipper peeked up at the newcomer standing before him; he'd have been stunned that the creature had managed to sneak up on him if he wasn't used to it already. Before him stood his savior, a shadow in his own right, but one that he just knew could keep him safe from whatever lurked out there.

The black cat knelt, nuzzling him affectionately.  _You shouldn't be out here on your own. Then again, you're always too curious, no matter where or when. Even when you **aren't**  a literal cat._ 

Dipper was still too shaken to move, so Bill sat down next to him, allowing the kitten to lean into his warmth. Dipper was so grateful for the other cat's presence that he began to purr, nuzzling against him in return. Bill's last words were confusing, though, and after a long moment of catching his breath he responded.  _When I'm not a cat?_

Bill's tail draped itself over his back; Dipper noticed that the shuffling, the shadows, the shrieking, everything that had driven him forward like a cannonball had somehow ceased. Either they'd lost interest, he'd outrun them, or there was something  _larger_  and more dangerous than themselves out there. 

Bill looked down at him and winked. 

Maybe not larger. But as he stared up at his companion, radiating confidence and something he couldn't quite put his claw on - power, of some sort? - it became apparent that  _Bill_  was the reason he was no longer afraid, why the woods had grown quiet once more. And for the first time, Dipper found himself in complete awe of the black cat. 

He'd long since admired his fighting ability and his talent for stealth, but this was different, a sort of startling adoration that sent his tail into overdrive. 

The black cat settled down at his side, folding his legs beneath him.  _Sometimes you walk on two legs, Pine Tree. Sometimes you don't have any. Sometimes you have wings._

The faint image of a blue butterfly fluttered into existence, landing on Dipper's nose for a brief second before fading away.

_Sometimes you live only a day, and sometimes you live out an entire lifespan. But no matter where, or when, I'll always find you. And when this life ends, I'll find you again._  He paused to ruffle the fur between Dipper's ears.  _Maybe you'll be human next time. No offense, kid, you're cute and all, but there are way more perks to being a meatbag._

A fair amount of this went over Dipper's head, but one part stuck out with perfect clarity.  _So we'll always be together?_

_Yes. In this life, and the next._

Dipper forgot himself then, standing up and darting around the small clearing joyfully, occasionally leaping over the log; Bill watched him for a moment before joining in, chasing him down and bowling him over in the grass, taking advantage of being a bit larger as they wrestled in the moonlight. 

He didn't understand it all; what did Bill mean by 'in this life, and the next'? He'd have to ask later, though - for now the kitten basked in the happiness that came with knowing that he'd always have his friend, no matter what.

After a good long while of playing, Bill returned to form, standing up and indicating that it was time to leave.  _Come on, kid. We can sate that curiosity about this place later. Shooting Star's probably losing it by now_. 

Dipper complied, falling in step beside him as the black cat led him home with their tails waving in unison. Together. 


	5. The Stars and the Sky

In the days following his first journey into the woods, despite facing no further interruption by the considerably less than amiable presence (or _presences_ , a host of shadows creeping up at his back that still caused the fur along his spine to rise whenever he recalled the sense of _wrongness_ that accompanied them) while in Bill’s company, Dipper opted to comply with their human’s wishes, ignoring the urge to explore what lay beyond the treeline when allowed out into the yard and refraining from the slightest protest when being scooped up into her arms and carted back inside. 

It wasn’t as if he were _scared_ , because he was braver than that, growing bolder with each sunrise and sunset, both due to progressing to full on adulthood and an a slew of sometimes ill-fated attempts to impress his companion. On the contrary, he’d managed to keep himself from darting onto the sofa, trembling at the mere roar of the carpet monster awakening from its inert state; he’d triumphed over his first kill - a large black insect that their human hadn’t appreciated being presented with, as with the larger and more noteworthy tributes that Bill brought home from his travels. It _wasn’t_ fear that kept him within the boundaries set for him, but a lack of opportunity - the door hadn’t been left cracked open since, and he knew he couldn’t outrun their human should he choose to break free and dart into the woods during playtime outside of the house.

At least that’s what he told himself, and Bill didn’t push the issue, continuing to slip out into the night as always, leaving Dipper with a brief swell of regret over not asking to follow.

It was some time after the incident in the woods that the black cat saw fit to address the situation, rousing him for where he lay curled up on the sofa and nodding towards the door. _C'mon kid, I wanna show you something._

Dipper stretched, arching his back while returning to full consciousness, and, ignoring his own apprehension, followed Bill to the heavy door - which was, as expected, firmly shut. _It’s not open this time._

Bill’s single golden eye glittered in the darkness of the living room. _A door’s just a door, Pine Tree. The only thing keeping you trapped in here is yourself._

Before he could protest the accusation Dipper leapt backwards in surprise, claws extended and hackles raised - the door creaked open of its own accord, without the efforts of either their human, or, as far as he could tell, Bill himself. The black cat grinned, padding over to him and indicating that Dipper should lead the way. _After you_. 

Dipper hesitated for a moment, struggling to quell his rising panic. As if fully aware of his stare of mind, Bill leaned over to groom the patch of fur between his ears that always proved to be the most calming until his nerves unknotted themselves, allowing him to finally place one shaky paw in front of the other, past the door and out onto the porch with Bill close behind. 

* * *

Instead of nudging him into the woods, it seemed Bill simply wanted to lie in the soft grass of the front lawn, with the kitten flush against his side and his pitch-colored tail curled around Dipper’s body protectively. The first time he’d managed to escape the house at night, Dipper hadn’t taken the time to observe more of the velvet sky above his head aside from acknowledging the silver eye of the moon staring down at the treetops and everything that crept below. Now he found himself awe-struck by the sheer amount of the small pinpricks of light that peppered the sky around it, none as large or as bright as the moon itself, but weaving a net with which to keep it from falling. _What are those? I mean, what are they called?_

Bill shook his head, chuckling. _You’ve got to get out more often, kid. They’re stars._ He ran the tip of his tail over the white spots on Dipper’s side, tracing from one to the other in what could only be some sort of pattern. _What do you think these are?_

The comment reminded Dipper of being lifted into their human’s arms the first time they’d met, gazing up into her bright brown eyes while they roved over the spots on his fur just before gleaming in recognition. _Dipper?_

_That’s right._ Bill tilted his head upwards, and Dipper followed suit, unsure of what he was looking for. _You see that really bright one? Polaris. That’s part of the small one. You’re the constellation right across from it._

_I’m not sure what you mean._ The admission was heavy-hearted; as much as he loved to listen to Bill talk about things that he’d never experienced and had little understanding of, the fact that he was _so_ ignorant made was disheartening - although Bill never seemed to mind. 

_That’s okay, Pine Tree. It’s hard to pinpoint if you don’t know what you’re looking for. It’s you, though - in every life before this one, and probably afterwards._

The comment awakened a confusing emotion within him, something that too complicated to comprehend - of both being so very small, yet simultaneously great beyond measure; in that moment, it felt as if something within Dipper had shifted, the blooming of some form of knowledge previously barred to him prior to Bill’s influence. 

And then he saw it. 

Although surrounding by their brethren, the seven stars stood out in bright, bold relief; somehow he knew that these seven stars were _his_. He felt himself rising to his paws in the grass, taking in his namesake - these stars, whatever image they were supposed to form, they were _his_ stars. 

His tail swished excitedly as he turned to face Bill, beaming. _I see them!_

_I knew you had it in you,_ Bill replied, not without an audible hint of pride in his voice. _Still the brightest star out there, even when you’re a furball._

As usual, the comment went over Dipper’s head, but he didn’t mind; he was too thrilled by finally understanding the origin of his name - as well as the acknowledgement that _something_ had happened, elevating him closer to Bill’s level. He paused for a second, glancing back at Bill and his silky, featureless black fur, then back up at the sky. _Which one is you?  Are you up there, too?_

Bill let out a sound that sounded much like laughter, a shade darker than Dipper was used to. _Nah._ _The cosmos are reserved for heroes, kid._

This didn’t quite make sense to Dipper - he’d long since the cementing of their friendship considered Bill his hero, standing between him and the numerous sources of fear and anxiety in the world, ready to take his claws and teeth to whatever left Dipper shaky in the slightest. _But-_

_Trust me, Pine Tree. You’re biased and that’s cute and all, but if you knew what I was, you wouldn’t have asked that question._

Again with the cryptic answers; Dipper had come to expect that, but that _his_ hero could be excluded from where he was sure Bill belonged - if not among the stars, but at his side - was too confusing to let go of. He glanced back and forth between the two; Bill, and the night sky, then back to Bill, one a mass of darkness himself, the other an endless expanse of the same. _Then maybe you’re the sky itself,_ he concluded, one ear flicking contentedly. 

For once Bill remained silent, devoid of denial, further explanation, or commentary of any sort, with his eye fixing itself on Dipper for a long moment. Suddenly his characteristic grin spread across his face, and Dipper let out a surprised meow as the black cat reached out with a paw and toppled him over onto his side; before Dipper could regain his balance he felt Bill shift closer to him, draping his tail over his back rather possessively. _Sure thing, kid. I’ll be your sky, if that’s what you really want._

Instead of attempting to rise again, Dipper moved closer to his companion, nuzzling against him while settling into a deep, satisfied purr. 

They remained there, the stars and the sky, sharing each other’s warmth until the moon dipped low and daylight began to break.


End file.
